


Promises that keep you alive

by kurosuisen



Series: The light that never goes out [5]
Category: Dunkirk (2017)
Genre: Angst, Emotional, Epistolary, Established Relationship, Historical Inaccuracy, Hurt/Comfort, Letters, M/M, Memories, Pilot Husbands, Post-Canon, Prisoner of War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2019-01-17 19:32:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12372531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurosuisen/pseuds/kurosuisen
Summary: I need something to keep my mind occupied. I don’t know if I know your mind well enough to guess your answers, but I can try. Hope you don’t mind.Collins go through the letters that he never had the chance to get.





	Promises that keep you alive

**Author's Note:**

> This work is deeply connected to the whole series. I suggest not to read it without reading at least [Seaside](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11880570/chapters/26829609) which is like base for the rest of the stories.

June 26, 1940

_Love,_

_I hope you are not buried in the sea._

It’s only one sentence and it’s enough to make Collins feel as if someone shoved a giant ice cube down his throat. He’s afraid he won’t take it. The only thought that keeps him reading is the fact that this story has happy ending.

It’s been some time since he wanted to ask about the letters in the book, but he would never do that. The letters were something extremely intimate and Collins didn’t want to make the other man uncomfortable. He just couldn’t help those thoughts that maybe, just maybe, the letters would help him support the recovery of his lover better. After all the fact that the encrypted letters inside the book are hidden deep inside the drawer meant that Farrier was not ready to share this with him.

And just as he revealed some stories that caused his nightmares, this time he also decided to reveal the letters to Collins.

The man was left breathless because of the fact that when he woke up, the book he was always interested in, the one hidden deep inside the drawer, was laying exposed on the bedside cabinet. Collins recognised the cover. It’s something chemistry or physics related. He never wondered – Farrier covered it with a few layers of clothes and Collins trusted his judgements at hiding it. 

Now he keeps the books in his hand, every page seems to be carrying the burden heavier than the whole world he knows.

Farrier left early that morning and he only remembered the kiss he left on his forehead and the fact that he tried to talk him out of going to work. Silly idea it was because it was the middle of the week and he was the only one having the day off. The advantages of being a teacher. He felt bad for his lover to go to work because they spend half of the night talking. Farrier couldn’t sleep, saying that he was hearing those annoying sounds in his ears again and it was only getting better when he focused on listening and talking. He told Collins some old story from his childhood, the one that he never thought to share before.

And then Collins woke up, far too late for his liking, to the sight of the book laying beside the bed. He wondered what has changed after this night that Farrier decided to share the letters written in the book.

July 3, 1940

_I repeat every second of this hour, analysing every move I’ve decided to make, making myself sure that I did what I could to keep you alive. I know perfectly well that it wasn’t the point of this mission, but it doesn’t matter. You were a part of my own mission, the mission that I gave to myself to keep you alive. I believe you are alive. Safe. Be safe, love._

July 20, 1940

_This place is cursed and so full of terror that I can’t stand looking someone in the eyes for a longer than three seconds. But believe me, those three seconds lasts ages. Time passes slowly because beside interrogations, you actually have nothing to do._

_It’s been only a few weeks and even if it’s a transit camp some people are here for months and they have those eyes screaming that they would rather be dead. They laugh sometimes. It’s a bitter laugh. They laugh of those who have the hope. The interrogators are doing their best to know us better and collect precious information. They try to figure us out using psychologists, they try to dig in our head._

_I cannot help having a hope as I close my eyes. Before I fall asleep, I still see the sea that day. It has the same colour as your eyes._

_You know that what I’ve done was the smart choice, don’t you? It was the only choice I could make. I knew the risk and I took it. And there’s this small chance to see you again. On this world and not on the other side, whatever is there._

Looking at the dates, he tries to remind himself what he felt at the time. He remembers that the first month without Farrier being back was filled with anger. Then the grief came. But there was never any acceptance in him. He had refused to believe that Farrier died. The other part of his soul couldn’t just die. He told himself that he would feel it somehow.

After a few letters he has to take a little break from reading it. Going through all the words Farrier wrote was difficult and decoding them didn’t make it even a slightly less emotional. Ha hated it when he was hoping for any good piece of information and all he got was full of terror or sarcasm comments about what happened. If he thought that he felt enough anger about his lover experiences, with every single letter he was proven to be wrong. The man he loved didn’t deserve that kind of treatment.

He takes the book to the kitchen while he is  preparing some coffee. He leaves it open on the counter and looks at it from time to time as if he was afraid that the book will disappear. It’s a precious thing, he believe. It’s something that made his lover survive. It’s something that made his lover come back to him as a man who was not only alive outside, but also inside.

He wants to stay focused, but deciphering such a messages wasn’t something he could get used to. It’s been ages since Collins was using the code they used to write short secret messages to each other and sometimes he gets a little lost. 

July 26, 1940

_There is a sea in my nightmares. I dream about you being swallowed by the sea. The same sea that swallowed your Spitfire. I refuse to believe that it happened. I refuse because… How would it be possible for me to feel nothing when your heart stopped beating? You can’t feel nothing when a part of your heart dies._

August 1, 1940

_I need your words. Your replies. I need something to keep my mind occupied. I don’t know if I know your mind well enough to guess your answers, but I can try. Hope you don’t mind._

_I had my first interrogation. This time there was no psychologist around. Just interrogator, looking me in the eyes as if he knew my thoughts. Which wasn’t actually difficult in that particular moment, because one smug smile was enough to make me want his death._

_And now it hurts. It hurts to breath, but I’m alive. They have asked questions. Most of the questions I couldn’t reply – some were above my state of knowledge and some would be considered a treason. Silence is what keeps me alive as long as there is no one with the same rank as I am. Most of the newcomers are common soldiers of the air forces. So they can’t let themselves lose a group commander, that’s why I’m existing here as a possible bargaining card._

Collins takes a deep breath and look away. The coffee is already made so he lifts the big blue mug, the one that Farrier particularly likes, and takes a little sip of his drink. He hisses and put the mug down, feeling burning on the tip of his tongue. It hurts, but it’s nothing comparing to the ache he can feel in his heart at the words his lover used. They shared the same hope about themselves since that unfortunate day, both refusing to believe that the world could take the other one down. Those hope was the most important thing that kept them alive in the cruel world of war.

There is a sound of turning the key in the door and Collins looks up at the clock on the wall. Farrier is back earlier than he usually does. Collins catches the book and he’s at the door in a few seconds. Before the older man can react, the blonde has his arms wrapped tightly around his waist and his nose nuzzled in the man’s neck. The book that Collins keeps in his hand is painfully pressed to Farrier’s back so the older man quickly realises why his lover behaves like that.

Gently he runs his fingers in Collins light hair and kisses his forehead. He can feel his loved one trembling a little so he embraces him either, so that the man would calm down.

“I have no idea how you survived all of this” Collins whispers, barely audible. His breath is warm against Farrier’s neck and the other man closes his eyes at the feeling, because he missed his warmth and he was waiting for the whole day to come back here and have the man he loved in his arms. “I only read it and it's getting more and more difficult to breath going through your words.” 

“You were the reason. You’ve always been the reason to keep me going” Farrier whispers into the man’s ear.

“But… You survived” repeats Collins and Farrier gently tilts his head back, to have the blonde’s eyes looking at him. “You… You’re not just breathing corpse like some others. You’re alive. You smile a lot, you make jokes, you have dreams you want to come true. You want to have a future.”

“I already have my future. Right before me” Farrier says and kiss the man’s lips gently. The words makes Collins taken aback a little, he can feel his eyes burning again and it takes him a few seconds before he smiles. “Aren’t you cold, love?” he asks, because Collins is standing before him only in a t-shirt and it’s cold inside.

“Me? No, not at all” Collins shakes his head, but his partner knows him better.

“You’ll catch a cold” he says as he take of his own jacket off when the younger man moves away a little. He sees as Collins bit his lips on his remark, but doesn’t protest when the man leads him to the bedroom.

The younger man feels disappointed when Farrier leaves the room. But it doesn’t last long for him to be back – with Collins’ coffee, his own tea and some cake he must have bought on his way home. He stops by the chest of drawers to turn on the record player. There’s the same recording that Collins was listening the evening before. Soft guitar music that usually made him relaxed.

Farrier sits beside him with a mug of tea in one hand and a novel in other. He started reading it last evening and he already has only one-third left. He was always faster at reading. He put the book on his thighs so that he could embrace Collins while reading, but he doesn’t look at the letters ciphered on the pages that the younger man was reading just a moment ago. He watches Farrier for a few seconds more. Somehow it doesn’t feel right to have him looking at what he was reading, so he wants to make sure the man doesn’t look. When he see that Farrier turn the page over, he decides he can also go back to reading.

He bits his lips, watching as the man’s handwriting become messier and messier with every piece of writing. He remembered Farrier’s handwriting from the times before it all happened, it used to be so beautiful with the perfect shapes and size. His handwriting is not so beautiful anymore after his right hand was crushed so many times. He believes that the only reason why Farrier is still able to write quite well is the fact that he have never stopped writing.

Sometimes Farrier’s letters are shorts, as he just reminded himself some of their precious moment they had so little since they’ve admitted their feelings. Collins smiles at the memory of the days before the Christmas when they were free to go home and visit their families. They did. But before that, they got into the same train, to stop by somewhere on their way and spend the night together in a small inn. He can’t help but laugh when he reads about the sweater he got from his mother – it was too big for him, but at the same time the sleeves were a little too short. Farrier liked the colour, so he started wearing it.

His laugh was enough to make Farrier look up at him, visibly surprised at the sound and Collins feels a little embarrassed about his reaction. The older pilot looks a little unsure as he checks the book in his lover hands. It takes him a few seconds to decode the words.

“Oh. The sweater” he whispers, half-smiling and Collins almost sighs in a relief. “Wouldn’t mind having one like that again.”

“I’ll have a word with my mum.”

He leans to give the older man a soft kiss in the cheek and smiles, when Farrier move his head a little, so that he could get a kiss in the lips. Instead another kiss, Collins lifts up a little, to sit himself between Farrier’s legs and rests his back on the man’s torso. Farrier doesn’t want to read his own thoughts from back then, so he just rests his chin on his lover’s shoulder and close his eyes, taking a short break from the novel he's just started.

Farrier wrote at least one letter a week. Some were short, some longer. He notices that at first he used bigger letters, but was getting smaller and smaller with every next, as if he was realising that he wasn’t going out anytime soon and he might not get any other book to write in.

On his way through the letters, Collins also realises that some of them seem more poetic than he could ever expect from his lover. The man referred to the books he made him read and some others that used to appear in their talks.

October 25, 1940

_Did you know that the sound can kill a man? There’s some logic in that fact, but I’ve never considered it before today. Or yesterday. My head is spinning, the sounds are still in my head and I am not able to say how much time passed since the event._

_The sounds are still in my head. I’ve never imagined how the sound can kill. I was in the last row of men so it didn’t kill me, but still I can hear and feel the sounds piercing through my brain like thousands needles. I can’t get rid the image of people dying of this sounds that I cannot get rid of my head. In the first rows there are always new people and they doesn’t know that they should expect dead. They're probably not important anymore after they share their secrets. So when they realise that their bodies are reacting on the piercing sound, it’s too late. They’re chained just as we are._

_I miss you, my love. I think I’m just living here without breath as you are so far from me._

_I miss your voice, my love. I miss you singing in a car when driving, on the roof at night when we used to steal moments for ourselves. I want your voice to drown out those sounds, but the memory doesn’t work as well as I want. I can only remind myself your singing when focused and I can’t focus very well now._

_Will you sing to me when I’m back? I know you’re always embarrassed when you realise that I’m listening, but believe me, I could listen to your soothing singing for hours. I can’t even imagine what I would feel to finally listen to your voice while you’re playing violin. I hope to live long enough to hear you playing violin. You promised to play for me._

“You didn’t remind me I promised to play” Collins whispers, his voice barely audible. His eyes burns and he has to hold his breath for a moment to calm down a little. It’s not possible as he look at the lines of coded message again and again.

“And yet you played for me.”

“I’ve always had a good insight when it comes to you” Collins laughs quietly and it was strange, strangled laugh. Somehow he knows that his lover liked the way his voice sounded when he was singing, but having it written down was a completely different thing. He can’t believe that his voice was something so soothing for Farrier.

He grasps his loved one’s hands and hides his face in them because he’s a little embarrassed about how much this small fact touched him. The book Farrier has been reading falls down on the floor, but the man ignores it, keeping his hands on Collins' face. It doesn’t help, he can’t hide his embarrasement because the tears appears in the corner of his eyes and he can feel that Farrier freeze at the fact.

“Remember that I’m half-deaf, Fin” he can hear the soft whisper above his ear and he can’t help, but to laugh at Farrier’s attempt to break the tension.

“You weren’t half-deaf when you wanted me to sing in front of the whole pub when we had those Friday evenings off” he chuckles at the memory.

He wants to read more and he does, but at the same time he’s still terrified of the next letters.

December 2, 1940

_It’s cold outside. And it’s cold inside. No surprise, the buildings that we sleep in are made of wood. The wood is like paper against the cold._

_It’s so cold that I’ve found my cellmate frozen to death this morning._

_They provide us with some blankets that are enough for us to live through the cold, but not enough to feel warmth._

_If they will not be the ones killing us with tortures, the pneumonia will decimate us. You can feel the cold deep down in your bones. The cold is as sharp as the needles of sounds that they use to torture us. When they take us out to test the sonic weapon (the physicist I met say it could be used as weapon soon) I can only guess what will kill us first – the piercing cold or the piercing sounds._

_I used to like winter. But now I feel as if the sun was exiled, leaving us in a cold prison with the death already nailing coffins for us._

Collins is unable to read every letter. Sometimes the words seem so heavy that he can’t even focus on deciphering it. His vision becomes a little blurry, because he can’t stop the tears in the corner of his eyes. He trembles a little at some of the letters. Reading all of this makes him understand more and less at the same time. The images Farrier creates in letters are too vivid. Too graphic for Collins imagination. He’s grateful that Farrier didn’t left him alone with those letters. He could do it, it would be understandable, but he knows Collins enough to guess his reactions. He’s the one who wants to share his deep thoughts so he feels that he wants to be there for his loved one while he’s going through his memories again.

He wonders how Farrier can be the person he is now, still sane, after living through all of these experiences. Farrier is not a shadow of past himself, like some of the people that came back from war. Farrier is different, but he didn’t become an empty shell.

“Reading this makes it feels… Impossible that you are here the way you are” he whispers. He wants to put the book away, but at the same time he doesn’t want to hurt his lover’s feelings. “So… Alive” he gasps at the word he used, but it is the best word he can think of. “Even after that you feel so full of life. You smile. Your eyes are so full of emotions. Even now you’re able to laugh. You’re a miracle.”

March 16, 1941

_I just woke up from a nightmare._

_I woke up that nightmare to see you lying on the opposite bunk._

_I could see your blue eyes so dead and skin, usually pale, so white then. Your lips were stranger to me, your form so thin and breath so shallow._

_Don’t haunt me like this. Don’t come here, I beg you._

_Don’t come near any danger that would make you end up here. Or in any other place like this. I don’t want to steal you to the world of dead._

_As much as I miss you, I don’t want you here. Have more luck than I did, my love._

April 20, 1941

_They have a new idea to make me talking._

_As I’ve written before, at first they’ve tried a force on me, but their smart psychologist haven’t seen through me and it wasn’t suitable idea. The pain they caused didn’t give them any meaningful replies. I could stay quiet for hours._

_It took two interrogators and three psychologists for them to realise that I can be stubborn at keeping my mouths shut. Then they tried bribery. They promised extra portions of food, clean sheets to sleep in or cigarettes and I was quiet._

_Then they decided to try solitary confinement. They want me to start talking trying not to go crazy, locked in a small room with narrow bed and a little window in the door being the only source of light._

June 11, 1941

_It is your second birthday since I’ve been here._

_I’m sorry I’m not with you to talk about the Lewis’ book that I have promised to read. I didn’t finish it yet and I won’t have a chance for some time yet. But we will talk about it. I promise you that, my love. Do you know you were right about promises? Promises keep you alive. Promises keep you going through cold, pain and helplessness._

_Should I wish you something today? Because all that come to my mind is for you to stay safe._

_Be safe, love. Don’t be brave._

October 18, 1941

_It’s the sonic weapon they test on us. The physicist says it is able to kill a man in a distance of one hundred meters. That is why I am still alive. I have never been in the line so close. It is designed to twist your organs, squeeze it like you squeeze a lemon. It makes people in the striking distance dies within short time._

_Some of those who are in the back lines, as I do, suffer from the sounds for hours later. It’s like an echo, but it goes deep down your brain._

_I realised that it is not only the sounds that goes through my brain over and over again. Today I realised that my hearing is getting worse. There’s a difference in the hearing level. Now I need to lean closer when someone is speaking to me. Which is troublesome during interrogation._

_I can’t afford losing my hearing. Not now, when I’m so far from where you are. I need to hear your singing again. And the violin melody you used to tell me about._

Collins remembers the days when every loud sound would make his lover shiver. He remembers the frightened look in his eyes. He remembers how the thunder sounds make him full of anxiety and terror. Now it’s better. There are nights when thunder doesn’t wake him up from a dream. If he wakes up, Collins is always there with warm lips on his skin and gentle sound of violin. It is far from being good, it is far from the days when they admired the view of the lightning cutting the black sky.

He looks away again, because even if for a moment he was able to control himself, he can feel the tears burning in the corner of his eyes again. He knows all the anger he feels for those who hurt his love is useless now, but he can’t stop this feeling.

“Sorry… I… I need a moment” he whispers and slowly turns back to Farrier. The letters are emotional challenge for him. He feels as if every single word was tearing his heart from his chest, crashing it with its strength. He hates the world for putting Farrier through all of this pain. He raises his hand slowly and places his fingers on his lover’s chest. Irrationally he wants to make sure that Farrier’s heart is still in the right place, still beating. He can feel the steady beating beneath his fingertips. “I would never be able to read this without you by my side” he whispers, feeling a little embarrassed about the fact how emotional he gets. Isn’t he the one who should support the other one? “And you imagined me actually reading this? I… I would read a book by you back then, just to know how you felt, but I would cry my heart out” he tries to laugh, but there’s no way to hide the fact that he’s on the verge of tears.

“I knew you would cry, but I pretended you didn’t” Farrier says softly and takes a deep breath as Collins lean down and presses his ear to his chest. He not only wants to feel his precious heart beating, he also wants to hear it. The firm sound makes his breath steadier, it stops his fingers from trembling. No matter what the letters are about, the story they tell have a good ending. “I needed you to stay strong in my mind. It… It was giving me strength.”

Collins goes through the next letters and sometimes he knows what to expect from each of it. Sometimes Farrier’s handwriting is barely legible and those are days when he had been interrogated. Farrier would write with his fingers broken, saying that the pain in his mind is less bearable than the pain in his crushed hand.

There are traces of the blood on some pages of the book and Collins can’t stand reading the letters that are dirtied with red stains. He takes a deep breath. Farrier’s touch is gentle on his back. The man doesn’t look at the book. He’s in the world of his thoughts and Collins can only hope he’s not thinking of incidents from the letters.  He knows he will tell him what bothers him as soon as he would be able to put it into right words.  

March 18, 1942

_I was amongst those moved to the other camp. It probably means that they gave up on interrogating me. They say that the conditions in this camp are different. That we are more likely to be left to manage of our own. I find it hard to believe._

_The new camp seems far from the one I’ve been before. I was moved here in a truck with dozens of other pilots, not only the British ones. There was barely a place to move, but I’ve managed to hide the book. Couldn’t risk losing it. It’s the only thing that keeps my mind sane. I couldn’t risk someone finding it and decoding and I couldn’t risk not finding any other book to write in._

_I’ve also heard that there are more British army men here than in the camp I was before. It’s a bigger camp where the people that keeps you capture doesn’t know your name. And as I’ve heard about British pilots being held here, the only thing I was praying for, to every god I’ve ever heard, was not to meet you here. There are thousands of people here and I was never more terrified to see your beautiful face again. Please, love, don’t be here._

April 7,. 1942

_We’re not only the subject of research, we’re also additional workers here. How practical! Such a well organised camp! If you have some knowledge in specific area, they will educate you and use you for their needs. So that you would not have enough time for thinking about how much of your life you have left._

_Students of chemistry, biology and physics are used to make the most deadly mixes of everything that is suppose to kill off a half of the camp and even some deadlier weapon. Those with the basic knowledge of medicine are trained to cure us, to ‘decrease the mortality’ in the camp. I’m lucky that there was no information about my short adventure with chemistry before the war in the documents they’ve found me with._

_Those with technical knowledge and experience, like me, are used to repair old vehicles and equipment. Hard to be bored and depressed when you have so important job to do._

April 19, 1942

_There was a glance of light hair and I was left almost breathless at the sight. The man looked exactly like you. But only for a short moment. When our eyes met there was a different gaze, eyes coloured in a different shade of blue and lips more full than yours. For a moment I thought that I must have been stupid to even consider the man being you. Don’t be mad. It’s all because of nightmares that seem so real. I didn’t have so many vivid dreams of you before. And now I’m afraid that one will turn out to be reality._

May, 1942

_I’ve lost a track of time._

_I thought that the sessions of sounds will be over, but it’s not._

_So we work here and we’re also used as an object of tests. How smart of them! Why would waste the opportunity to measure the long-lasting effect? Before you know, they will find a cure for cancer! And the only side-effect is that it would probably make us insane. For now I feel nauseous for days after being exposed to it. I’m not sure for how many days I’ve been out, but it feels like I missed a few. I was conscious. Just… Not enough to remember everything._

_There are new red marks on my hands, as if someone cut my skin, piece after piece and I can’t recall ever feeling it. Even slight move of flexing my fingers hurts like hell and I wonder if those thin cuts will open at some point. It hurts to write with this hand, but it’s a good kind of pain. It makes me awake._

_I try to recall even the smallest little second of what was happening for the last days. I don’t care what they did to me. I want to be sure that I didn’t say anything I was supposed to be quiet about._

Still spring, still 1942

_I’ve lost a of time again. Two of my cellmates died yesterday. That was probably some illness that would never kill them in different circumstances. But we are short of medicines here. The only medical supplies we have here are those from Red Cross and they are limited to those that have chance to live through the sickness with only a small dose of it._

_I’m lucky I wasn’t close with those two. It’s not easy to have friends here, when you don’t know who would be the next to die. They had a few belongings and all of those things are already gone. Stolen._

_Do you remember that we are obliged to escape as soon as the opportunity comes? I am afraid to try that. As a group commander I should gather men ready to escape instead of drowning in my mind. But I can’t make myself doing it. There isn't many stories of successful escapes. Those who didn't make it were executed or beaten for trying. It depended of how big the group was, I guess._

_It’s a shame to be afraid, but I don’t want to risk not meeting you again._

August, I believe, 1942

_It’s hot today. During winter you could die here of freezing and during summer you could die too. The air seems thick. There is no single breath of wind on your skin and you can only pray for the glass of water. I feel weak. When your body is used to living, doing nothing makes you weak._

_I don’t know what it’s worse – sitting in the small bunks where your plank bed is the only space you have or wandering outside, watching as the new group of prisoners is brought here, wondering how many of them will die within a month. Some are seriously hurt and even if they get medical help, the lack of medical supplies kills those the weakest._

_Every transport of people seems to be bigger than the previous one. They are our only source of information about the world outside. It seems unlikely for this war to end soon._

November, 1942

_Some people know how to make sure to survive here. Sometimes all you need is to… Get rid of your dignity and become acquainted with your tormenter. You are at their beck and call, you step on your toes around them and you make sure you do nothing to make them upset. One mistake can be the dead of you, because there are people who would gladly take your place._

_Seeing some of the soldiers acting like that, I think it’s a surprise I’m not dead already. The only thing that helps me survive here is the fact that I know when to keep my mouth shut when my thoughts are screaming._

Collins looks up at the man he loves and bits his lips. He can’t believe that Farrier is able to remain so calm while he is all trembling only by reading those letters. But maybe that’s the point. He’s able to be calm even though his lover read his emotional confessions right in front of his eyes. Collins is sure that something like this would not be possible the first time they met. He remembers how the man was pressing the book to his chest as if he was afraid that someone will take it away from him.

He thinks it’s good that there are some things missing in his memories. He’s afraid of the things that could break him and relieved that the man that returned to him is far from being an empty shell. He’s more alive day by day, he discovers new things that make him excited, and he reminds himself of the long lost passions that he used to enjoy before the war.

January, 1943

_Do you know how terrifying it is to write to you when the image of your face is blurred in my memory? Do you know how terrifying it is not to be able to remind myself the exact sound of your voice, love? Every day I put more and more effort to keep it in my memory and every day it seems like I missed another little detail. Sometimes even in my dreams the image of you is blurred. Only the memories of the warm touch seem real. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and I feel the warm of your hands on my skin. It feels so real on cold nights like tonight._

He’s speechless at those words as he thinks of the nights when Farrier used to wake up trembling, convinced that he’s back in the camp. On those moments he believed that he won’t see Collins face again and he couldn’t even focus enough to remember. Those were nights they were apart, nights before he moved in. Collins can’t say how many of those nightmares Farrier had before he has told him about it after one too long time of being separated from each other.

At some point of the war Collins had also realised that he couldn’t remind himself the soft voice of the man he loved so much. He remembers how hard he tried to catch a soft note of Farrier’s voice. In the most difficult moments before the mission he would find himself sitting in the pilot cabin and humming one of few songs he heard Farrier singing quietly.

He bits his lips as he flicks through the book to see one of the newest letters. He sees those that have specific dates again, written in the care facility that he had been held before Collins found him.

August 25, 1945

_There’s a huge library here and I think reading is the only thing that I can do here. I got Lewis’ book. And Huxley’s. I’ve read it. I think that this time we’re going to talk about it on your birthday. I promised you that, didn’t I? That promise was on my mind for all those years that passed._

_So… You have to be alive. I’m not the only one who made promises, love._

Collins smiles at his words, because they did speak about those books on his birthday. They had different thoughts and they disagreed about a few things, but the discussion was longer than any of the book discussion they’d had before. He doesn’t know what to say, because he feels that he’ll never understand Farrier’s experiences fully. But with those letters he’s a few step closer.

He puts the book away, deciding that it’s been enough reading. His eyelids are red and swollen from constant rubbing. He doesn’t know what to say and he’s not sure he’s even able to say anything as he can feel a lump in his throat, dizzy with all the visions he has read about. There are no words to describe what he feels like. Luckily, Farrier is the one who knows what to say.

“You reading this… It means a lot to me” he whispers and Collins needs to take a deep breath. Farrier opens his mouth to say something more, but the lightning hit the sky. The sound outside is loud and terrifying. For a few seconds Collins only looks the man in the eyes. He expects the man to break down, but he doesn’t. They don’t break the eye contact when Farrier grasp for his hand and clench their finger in a tight grip. “It’s difficult to talk about those things. But I wanted to share with you. I’m sorry if I made you upset.”

Collins is left speechless again. How this man can even worry about him being upset of what he has just read, when he was the one experiencing the whole thing…?

Gently, he moves back to his lover and takes the man’s face in his hands, to catch his gaze again. He can’t stand seeing him so vulnerable, but he knows that with every passing days Farrier moves on.  The fact that he showed him the letters is another proof of this fact. Collins also knows that he will never be the man he met on his first day in air forces. The same goes for him. They are both men of war, shattered into pieces by it. But he also knows that they are stronger now when they are together.

He presses their forehead together as he feels the man’s grip on his hand.

“Don’t be sorry, my love. I love you. I’ll always be upset about anyone hurting you” he whispers and the slight smile forming on Farrier’s lips makes his heart beat a little faster. There’s nothing as beautiful as the glimpse in his lover’s eyes when he smiles.

 “My heart has been returned the moment I saw you again” Farrier says slowly and it’s enough to make tears fall down the younger man’s face. Suddenly he find it difficult to breath so he embraces his lover tightly, because he can’t stand not feeling the soothing warmth of Farrier’s body next to him. “Do you think I should burn it?” asks the older pilot, gently caressing his back and kissing his neck softly in the place that always makes Collins shiver.

The younger man looks at him and he feels as if all the thoughts have vanished from his head at the question. He’s not supposed to decide something that is so deeply combined with Farrier’s experiences. But the man is asking him and it makes his chest hurt, because the man trusts him so deeply. He wants to say something, but he can’t find the right words, so he lifts his lover’s hands slowly and gently kisses it.

“You already started a new chapter of your life even without having the last dot in the previous one” he says slowly, still trying to catch words that would be suitable. “This book and those words will not stop you from getting better. There was a time when it helped you. And until you feel ready to get rid of it, it can just wait deep inside the drawer. One day you would feel there’s no need for it to exist and… Maybe then it will feel right to finish that chapter by destroying it.”


End file.
